An Elm Creek Quilts Sampler (50 page)

“No,” Bonnie said softly. “I want Craig back.”

Gwen shook her head. “I know I’m the last person in the world you’d want for a marriage counselor, but have you given this enough thought? If you’re doing this for the sake of the kids, well, they’re old enough to handle divorce.”

“And even if they weren’t old enough, kids can adapt to anything,” Diane added. “It’s far better for kids to be in a loving, peaceful, single-parent household than to witness a messed-up marriage every day.”

Bonnie winced. She had never thought of herself as someone with a messed-up marriage, but she supposed she was.

“Nice, Diane.” Gwen glared at her.

“What?” Diane protested. “Would you stay with someone who did to you what Craig did to Bonnie? If Tim pulled this crap with me, I’d kick him out the door and throw his computer after him, and I’d do my best to bean him on the head with it. Let little Miss Homewrecker have him if she wants him. Anyone who would do something like this is no prize, as far as I’m concerned. If I were Bonnie—”

“But you’re not me,” Bonnie said.

They looked at her, silent and surprised, as if they had forgotten she was there.

They didn’t know what they would do, not for certain, Bonnie wanted to tell them. No woman would ever know what she would do until she was faced with the situation herself. Gwen could advise her to put Craig out of her life because Gwen loved her independence and didn’t know what it was like to build a life with a partner and to see that life threatened. Diane could say she’d kick Tim out if he did what Craig had done, because she knew Tim never would. Of course, six hours ago, Bonnie would have sworn the same thing about Craig.

“You’re right,” Gwen said. “We’re not you. If this is what you want, we’ll help you.”

“Of course we will,” Diane said. “You can count on us.”

“Thank you.”

“But—” Gwen hesitated. “Craig knows what you look like. A makeover won’t keep him if he wants to go.”

“Maybe,” Diane said. She frowned in concentration and toyed with Bonnie’s hair again. “But it can’t hurt.”

They went downtown to an athletic shoe store, where Gwen advised, “Find the most comfortable ones and worry about the price later.”

Bonnie complied, but when she finally did look at the tag, the price nearly sent her reeling. “Is this for the shoes or the entire store?” she called out to a passing salesman, who ignored her.

Beside her, Diane was trying on pair after pair. “I’m getting some, too, so you don’t have to go through this alone.”

“The price will keep you motivated,” Gwen said. “You’ll walk every day because you’ll want to get your money’s worth.”

“I’ll walk with you,” Diane promised. She stood up and took a few practice steps, then paused to examine her feet in the mirror. “Do you think these shoes make me look fat?”

Gwen burst out laughing, and Bonnie forced herself to join in. They were trying to cheer her up. The least she could do was let them think it was working.

After they made their purchases, Gwen had to return to campus, but she promised to phone later that evening. Diane took Bonnie by the arm and led her down the street to Henri’s salon. Henri himself bounded over to welcome them. When Diane told him Bonnie needed “emergency resuscitation,” Henri shook his head and made tsking noises. “It is a man, no?”

“No—I mean, yes,” Bonnie said. “How did you know?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I know,” he said significantly, and led her off to wash her hair.

Diane had been correct; Henri did work miracles. When Bonnie left the salon she looked a good five years younger—“Ten if you were not so very sad,” Henri said. He had enhanced her best features with a wonderful haircut and clever makeup techniques. As she watched the transformation, Bonnie tried to rein in her delight with the sobering thought that this makeover was costing her a small fortune. Craig is worth it, she told herself firmly, and stopped calculating the bill for the long list of products Henri insisted were essential for recreating her new look. But she needn’t have worried. “Put it on my account, Henri,” Diane sang out as they left the salon.

“But of course,
ma chérie,”
Henri called after them, waving cheerfully.

“I’m a very good customer,” Diane confided as she took Bonnie next door to a fashionable boutique. Bonnie had often admired the expensive dresses displayed in the front window, but this was the first time she had actually gone inside. She felt out of place, but Diane breezed through the shop as if it were her own closet.

The dress Diane chose for her was light blue, and the flattering style seemed to take five pounds off her hips. With the new hair and makeup, the dress dangerously out of her price range, Bonnie looked amazing.

“You have to get it,” Diane insisted.

“I can’t.” Bonnie fingered the price tag, gazed at herself in the dressing room mirror, and sighed. “It’s out of the question.”

“It would be a crime to let anyone else wear this dress,” Diane grumbled, but she didn’t pursue it. When Bonnie slipped back inside the stall to change, Diane offered to return the dress to the rack. Bonnie gave it to her reluctantly. She had wanted to admire herself in the mirror a few moments longer.

When Bonnie left the dressing room, Diane was waiting by the cash register, a shopping bag in her hand and a mischievous grin on her face. “You didn’t,” Bonnie said.

“I did.” Diane handed Bonnie the bag.

“Thank you. I’m very grateful, but where on earth would I wear a dress like this?”

“L’Arc du Ciel, when you take Craig there for a romantic dinner and dancing Saturday night. Craig does like to dance, doesn’t he?”

“Well, yes, but at L’Arc du Ciel?” Bonnie protested as Diane steered her from the shop. “I could feed the whole family for the price of one of their entrées. We’ve never eaten there before.”

“Maybe you should start.”

“But Craig will be at Penn State on Saturday,” Bonnie said without thinking. She shook her head. “You’re right. L’Arc du Ciel it is.”

They parted at the corner. Bonnie hurried home to drop off her packages and returned to Grandma’s Attic just in time for closing. Summer’s delight at her new appearance made Bonnie blush. As she counted the day’s receipts, locked the front door, and flipped the sign to Closed, she planned what she would say to Craig that evening. As she walked two blocks to the bank to drop off the deposit, she wondered if he would even notice her new appearance. She didn’t expect him to match Summer’s enthusiasm, but she hoped he’d show some appreciation, at least. Maybe she should put on a negligee and drape herself over his computer; he would have to notice her then.

She was preparing supper when he came home from work. He stopped by the kitchen to give her a quick kiss, then headed straight to the computer.

“Supper will be ready soon,” she told him. “I don’t think you have time—”

“It won’t take long.” He didn’t bother to look at her as he spoke. “I have some important business to take care of.”

“I bet you do,” she muttered, too low for him to hear.

The table was set and Bonnie was in her usual chair waiting for him when he finally slunk into the dining room. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean for that to take so long.”

“That’s no problem,” Bonnie said cheerfully. “I know how work can get away from you sometimes.” So many evenings lately she had waited for him to drag himself away from the computer to come to supper or to bed, all the while feeling sympathy—sympathy!—for her poor, overworked husband. She’d been such a fool.

He gave her a quick smile as he took his seat, then did a double take. “You look different.”

“Do I?” Bonnie rose and began serving him.

He nodded. “Did you get your hair cut?”

“Yes, I did.” She could hardly get the words out, so pleased and relieved was she that he had noticed, and so angry at herself for feeling that way. She forced herself to smile. “What do you think?”

“You look very nice.”

“Thank you, honey.” She smiled at him, wondering if he detected the undercurrent of anger. She filled her own plate, taking smaller portions than usual.

Tim glanced at her plate. “Is that all you’re having?”

“Oh, I decided to take off a few pounds.” She said it breezily so he wouldn’t think she was going to start obsessing about food, or worse yet, put him on a diet as well. Women who constantly criticized their figures annoyed him; he considered them self-absorbed and desperate for attention. Bonnie took an enthusiastic bite of chicken to show him she still had an appetite. “I’m going to start walking every day, too.”

“Really.” He eyed her with mild surprise.

She nodded. “That’s right. There’s going to be a whole new Bonnie around here soon.” Not by Saturday, but soon. “Don’t worry; I’m only changing my appearance, not the things that really matter. I know how fond you are of the old Bonnie.” She heard herself speaking and wondered how she could sound so cheerful, so confident, so affectionate, when her heart was splintering into jagged pieces in her chest.

“I am fond of you,” he said, holding her gaze for a moment before returning his attention to his food.

She jumped at the opening. “I know that, but it’s nice to hear you say it,” she said. “And while you’re being so sweet … I was thinking, why don’t we plan a special evening out soon? It’s been a while since we’ve done something special, just the two of us.”

“It’s been just the two of us every day and every night since Barry started college.”

“You know what I mean.” She reached for his hand. “I mean going out, having fun.”

He looked dubious. “What did you have in mind?”

“I thought we could go out for dinner and dancing at L’Arc du Ciel.” She steeled herself. “I went ahead and made reservations for Saturday night.”

“Saturday?” He set down his fork. “This Saturday?”

She nodded, her heart sinking as his frown deepened.

“But you know I have plans for this Saturday.”

“I thought maybe you’d be willing to change them.”

He shook his head and helped himself to more mashed potatoes. “We can go out to dinner any night. The Blue-White Game is only once a year.”

“But it’ll just be one half of the team playing the other half, right? Wouldn’t it just be like watching a practice?”

“It’s much more than a practice and you know it. It’s the first time we get to see next year’s starting lineup in action.”

“Can’t you tape it?”

“No, I can’t tape it.” His voice was rising, growing more agitated. “They might show it on local TV in State College, but we won’t get it around here. It’s not a Big Ten game.”

Bonnie heard herself speak, and her voice sounded as if it were coming from someplace very far away. “Please don’t go to Penn State this weekend. Please stay here and go dancing with me instead.”

His face was hard. “I’ve already paid for my ticket, and I’ve been planning this a long time. We’ll go out next weekend, all right?”

He was adamant, and she knew it. All the nervous energy drained from her. “All right.”

She watched him eat, cutting into the tender chicken with his fork, chewing angrily on a slice of buttered bread. She was seized, suddenly, by the urge to dump the bowl of corn over his head. “I think I left the oven on,” she said, and rushed back to the kitchen, where she waited for the urge to subside before returning to the table.

She slept poorly that night and woke, numb and confused, to the sound of the keyboard clattering in the other room.

Gwen was right.

A new hairstyle and makeup wouldn’t keep him. The promise of a trim, healthier Bonnie wouldn’t keep him. Neither would a romantic night on the town or a lovely new light blue dress that seemed to take five pounds off her hips.

If she wanted to win him back, it would have to be with her brain. She was over fifty, and although she had treated her body kindly throughout the years, it could do only so much for her. But although her beauty wasn’t as great as it had been when she and Craig first met, her mind was better than ever. Years of managing a household, running her business, interacting with her wonderful, creative, intelligent friends had sharpened her mind and developed her soul. She had accomplished so much in her life; she was a partner worthy of any man. She would make Craig remember that.

Filled with new resolve, Bonnie kicked off the covers and started her day. By the time she had showered and had styled her newly cut hair, she knew what she had to do. She dressed in her favorite blue slacks and the quilted jacket she had made over the course of many months at meetings of the Elm Creek Quilters. Wearing it now, she felt as if her friends were with her, silent but encouraging, supportive, lending her their strength. She took a deep breath and strode into the family room to announce her intentions.

Craig was still at the computer, naturally, sipping coffee and munching buttered toast. On any other morning she would have scolded him gently and warned him about cholesterol, but today she was tempted to load the toast with as much butter as it would hold and force-feed it to him, along with a few slices of bacon and a cup of lard.

“I have a great idea,” she declared.

Craig jumped in his chair. “Oh? What’s that?” With a swift movement of the mouse, he turned on the screen saver. A school of fish appeared where an email message had been.

“Since you can’t change your plans for Saturday, I’ll change mine.” Bonnie smiled brightly as he swiveled around to face her. “I’ll come with you to Penn State.”

Craig’s face went from furious red to queasy pale more swiftly than she would have imagined possible. “What? What do you mean? You can’t.”

She deliberately misunderstood him. “Well, sure I can, honey. I’m not too busy.”

“But—you have—” He gulped air. “What about the shop? Saturday’s your busiest day. You can’t afford to close on a Saturday, not when business has been so bad.”

“Summer’s working, and Diane offered to help her.” Bonnie hadn’t asked her yet, but she knew she would agree.

“What about quilt camp? I won’t be back until Sunday afternoon. You’ll miss registration.”

“They can manage without me just this once.”

Craig’s mouth worked silently for a moment. “Ticket,” he said, relief replacing his sickly cast. “You don’t have a ticket to the game. You can’t go.”